Yesterday I listed some of the great buys at the Farmer’s Market — but I forgot to mention fresh corn. Delicious, melt-in-your-mouth, squeaky-fresh white sweet corn. Roasted in the husk on the coals from a fire in the cast iron fire pit in the yard. Eaten at dusk, surrounded by incense, citronella candles, fireflies, cats, and the rumble of fireworks in the distance.
Little in life could have been better.
Prior to the feast, Josh trimmed some low branches around the place while I planted my new lavender, spread some compost and potted the last of the annuals in the patio containers. The air was just right, with a touch of moisture that has turned to rain this morning; the lingering heat from the afternoon keeping us moving slow and easy.
The breeze was just a touch, like a caressing hand on my face and neck, cooling and mellowing me. I rested frequently, facing the back jungle of tree, scrub and vine. I watched a Downy Woodpecker as she skittered up and down a long trunk, stopping to tap here and there.
Cardinals, Jays, Mockingbirds, and Goldfinches were the main feeders as evening approached. They would scatter to the nearby trees and bushes when one of the cats strolled by, but they are largely blase at this time of year (ditto the cats). The Blue Jay calls the traditional warning, “Cat! Cat! Cat” and the cat twitches an annoyed ear and just walks slower, stretching insolently before leaping up on the next napping place.
It’s very quiet this morning. Just a soft rain, muted bird calls, and everyone else asleep. This is one of the loveliest holiday weekends I can remember. A perfect admixture of joy and quiet, serenity, laughter, good food, companionship, music, and only a faint nostalgic sorrow for what is gone.
Blessings to all this rainy Sunday.
And So It Is.